


Swallow the Sound and It Swallows Me Whole

by AgentBuzzkill



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M, One Shot, Prompt Fic, The things I do for the Internet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-14
Updated: 2012-09-14
Packaged: 2017-11-14 06:01:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/512082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentBuzzkill/pseuds/AgentBuzzkill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From a prompt I recieved on Tumblr asking me to write a fic inspired by Florence and the Machine's "Drumming Song." Well...you ask, and I deliver.</p>
<p>Title from the aforementioned "Drumming Song." This fic is best read listening to that song. Trust me, I tried.</p>
<p>Trigger warning for a scene involving dubious consent and slight PTSD in the form of a flashback/dream.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Swallow the Sound and It Swallows Me Whole

boom. boom. boom. boom.

"Little Hawk," the voice whispered, "Little Hawk. Come out and play, Little Hawk."

boom boom. boom boom.

"You want to, don't you?" The voice crooned. Close, cool breath tickled his ear. "You want to feel the freedom again."

boom BOOM. boom BOOM.

A piercing flash of blue in the darkness.

"I can show you, Little Hawk. I can set you free."

BANG BANG BANG BANG

"You did such fantastic things when you flew for me. Come to me, my little bird. My Hawk."

BANGBANGBANGBANG

Clint Barton screamed into the night as he jolted up from sleep, body twisting under the blankets. The pounding in his head resonating through his ears and making him close his eyes in agony, hands fisting around the sheets.  
Panting slightly, the archer sat up and stretched his still shaking arms. He threw the blankets off him and sat on the edge of the bed, head in his hands. Moonlight pooled on the floor, let in by the large glass door that lead to the balcony just outside his room. 

He had half a mind to call Tasha. But no, these were only nightmares. Vivid, terrible nightmares. They were all the same. But either way, he had dealt with nightmares all his life. He could deal with these.

No matter that these were different from the nightmares of childhood and of his earliest days at SHIELD. No matter that they were stronger, lasted longer, took more strain to pull himself out of. No matter that they felt so. Damn. Real. No. No matter.  
No matter that the memories of Loki were ingrained in him. No matter that every night he woke up in a strange mix of terrified and turned on. It was madness. It was torture. It had to end, Clint knew that. So why did some twisted voice in the back of his head make him want more?

He stood up, sweaty palms sliding down the sides of his sweatpants. Feather-light footsteps drifted across the floor as he opened the glass doors and stepped out onto the balcony. 

Crisp, cool air bit at his bare chest, and he sighed in relief. Better to be out here. Out here there was the calm hum of the city at night. He could stay out here until morning. It wouldn't be the first time. 

It was only years of training and experience that kept him from jumping a mile high when a cold hand touched his back. 

Instead, he spun around, gripping the intruder's wrist in one hand as the other moved to grasp at the tall figure's neck. When piercing green eyes met his, he tightened his grip and rasped, "You have a lot of balls coming here."

The demi-god only smirked. "I was hoping you'd be a little more welcoming."

With that Loki stepped forward, pressing Clint's back to the railing at the edge of the balcony. his free hand snaked up to grip the back of Clint's neck, fingers twisting up into his hair. At his touch, Clint tried to suppress the shudder that threatened to roll through him. 

"Ah," Loki's eyes lit up in a twisted sort of glee. "So you do still want me? I couldn't be sure. Your response to your last few dreams was less than positive."

Loki forced him back further, until he was bending back. The demi-god pressed close up to him, his cool breath ghosting across Clint's face. 

"You bastard," Clint choked out.

"You're going to have to try harder than that to resist me," the god of mischief smirked wickedly. "Or do you really want this? I know you do. Or else..." He easily freed his wrist from Clint's grip and pressed it to his chest, nimble fingers stroking down. He continued, "you would try harder to resist me." 

His hand drifted down further to palm the front of Clint's pants. A strangled moan left Clint's lips and the demi-god only chuckled. "But you're not," he murmured. "In fact, I'd say you need this. You crave it." His hand pressed harder, and Clint could only buck up into his touch. Loki moved in close to whisper, "You crave me."

Clint could only hold on as Loki's hand slipped down into his pants and gripped him, twisting and stroking. It wasn't long before Clint was shaking and swearing, hips pressing insistently against Loki as the demi-god brought him to the edge and over. He yelled something that might have been Loki's name as his heart pounded in his head and he trembled in the demi-god's arms. 

"Yes my Hawk," he coaxed, wiping his hand on Clint's pants before he captured Clint's mouth in a kiss. Clint was limp and pliant at this point, feeling used and sated and all kinds of wrong and right. 

"You know your place, my sweet little bird." Loki spoke softly in his ear, "Remember that the next time you try to deny me what is mine."

"Not yours," Clint tried to say but Loki silenced him with a kiss. 

"Maybe not yet," Loki said. "Maybe not entirely. But soon. Oh yes, soon you'll fly for me again Barton."

Clint opened his eyes, not remembering when he closed them, and found himself alone.


End file.
